Chapter 10
ROWAN
Being outside, in a spot that once brought my mother comfort, is surreal. Calming in a way I don’t expect. Maybe a little traumatizing, too. Like standing in someone else’s memories and trying to breathe without inhaling all their ghosts.
It reminds me of the loss all over again, but even though she ran from this place, somehow being where I know she was, where she grew up and fell in love, it softens the grief. I know this isn’t what she wanted for me, but knowing this part of her life isn’t something I can regret.
Well, outside of becoming the doom and gloom of this world. That part could kick rocks anytime now.
By the time Liz and I make our way back up the long, winding driveway to NightShade, there’s a new sense of belonging settling low in my chest. Like the land itself is wrapping invisible fingers around me and saying, you belong here.
Maybe if we can move past the nightmare episodes, this place won’t be so bad.
Mom may have run from here like it was on fire and she’d just soaked herself in gasoline, but whatever her reasons were, they don’t have to be mine. It doesn’t lessen how much I love her or appreciate everything she tried to do for me, but it didn’t work and I’m not her.
I’m not just a Hollowborn, heir to NightShade, with a lifetime of expectations stacked on my back like bricks.
Sure, Psycho Granny might still expect me to take over, but I see a different possibility in Liz’s eyes.
I hear it in the way she spoke about the Ashmark prophecy—as if my being here changes the story.
“I know exactly where there’s a book with the precise prophecy wording in it,” Liz says, her voice carrying both excitement and the kind of sly satisfaction that makes me only slightly suspicious.
“Maybe since you’re ‘it’, the twisty words will make more sense to you than they do to the rest of us basic supernaturals. ”
Before I can respond, movement draws my attention upward. A dark figure steps onto the roofline, framed against the gold-tinged sky. My heart stutters, then speeds up until I can hear the pulse in my ears. My skin warms like I’ve just been shoved in front of a roaring fire.
Cade.
“What is he doing up…”
My words trail off as he leaps.
I open my mouth to scream, because apparently my brain has decided to assume this idiot is about to die, but gravity bends for him in a way it doesn’t for normal people.
One heartbeat he’s a brooding statue on the roof.
The next, he’s airborne, boots hitting the driveway with enough force to send faint cracks spider webbing through the asphalt.
The shockwave ripples through my legs, my stomach, and… Okay, other places I’m not going to acknowledge.
It’s not fair how easily he makes a thirty-foot drop look like a casual step off the curb.
Or how, when he straightens and lifts his gaze, those piercing eyes of his pin me in place.
And then there’s his voice. Rough, low, and dangerous in a way that makes my skin feel too tight when he says, “Can we talk? Alone.”
The words are almost a challenge, but it’s the unflinching way he looks at me that sends heat crawling up my neck and down my spine until it pools much lower.
I glance at Liz, silently begging her to throw herself in front of me with a good excuse. Instead, she shrugs, all nonchalance, and smirks like she’s just handed me the greatest gift known to man.
“Fine,” I say, squaring my shoulders even though my pulse is hammering. “But maybe try not to kill anyone while we’re together.”
Iris might have come back to life, and he was right that I’m not even sure how much I really like her, but still. Watching him break her neck that easily was unsettling. Like, one wrong sarcastic comment from me and I might be next.
His only response is a low, gravelly grumble. No promises, no reassurances. Still, I follow him, because apparently, self-preservation isn’t my strongest quality today.
He cuts across the front lawn, his long strides eating up the space until we pass the manor’s east wing. The stone walls give way to a tangle of hedges and wild rose bushes, their blooms fighting for dominance over the last scraps of summer.
The air smells like damp earth and late-blooming lilies, a little too sweet for my current mood.
Rock pathways snake through the greenery, leading us toward a fountain in the center.
Water spills over four carved tiers, the steady trickle soothing in a way that feels at odds with Cade’s barely restrained intensity.
We sit on a bench, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him, but also with a carefully placed six inches of “don’t touch me” space between us. I expect his silence to grate on me, but instead, it’s oddly comfortable.
Communing with nature just now really did a number on me.
Maybe feeling so at ease here isn’t the best idea yet.
My eyes cast quick glances his way, never allowing myself to linger long. Though, his attention seems to be fixed on the fountain ahead of us, even as he speaks.
“What did Liz tell you while you were in the woods?”
I scoff. “Breaking into bedrooms wasn’t enough for you? Now you’re stalking my movements and interrogating my private conversations?”
His shoulders vibrate, and I swear I hear a rumble come from him. “I’m trying to be nice.”
I arch a brow. “Is that how your mother taught you? That it’s okay to just barge into people’s lives, growl at them, and expect them to be grateful? Maybe I should have a chat with her.”
The shadows change his face in an instant, dimming something behind his eyes. He stands abruptly, turning away from me, and for a moment I think I’ve finally pushed him too far. But then he pivots back, gaze locked on mine.
“My mother is dead.”
Shifter shits.
Damn it. That really is catchy.
But more than that, a pang cuts through my chest because I know what that loss feels like.
“I didn’t know. I’m sor—”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” he snaps, tone sharp enough to slice through the space between us. “I just need you to listen.”
I straighten on the bench, forcing myself not to be annoyed with his grumpy demeanor. I don’t know how long ago his mother died, but I do know how grief likes to leave its mark. Even I still have my own unyielding days when nothing in the world feels worth softening for.
“What is it you want to tell me?” I keep my voice casual, like we’re discussing weather patterns instead of whatever danger has him looking like he’s about to break the fountain in half. It works—at least enough for him to settle back onto the bench.
This time, though, he sits closer. Not so close that we touch, but enough that the faint brush of his presence pushes against mine.
And then his scent hits me—pine and something darker, like wood smoke curling off a dying fire.
It settles low in my lungs, warm and heady, as if it’s branding itself there. My pulse skips, betraying me.
His attention stays fixed on the fountain, but the roughness in his voice is weighted, each word deliberate. “You’re in more danger than you realize.”
I bite back a groan. Really? Is this going to be the greatest hits album everyone seems determined to play for me now? Ever since I woke up in a strange bed wearing clothes that weren’t my own, danger has apparently been my new life mantra.
Cade keeps going, his tone sharpened by something between warning and frustration.
“I’m not talking about stray vampires or pissed-off witches, Rowan.
I’m talking about those with resources, influence, and the kind of patience that means they’ll wait until you’re at your most vulnerable to strike.
It takes only one wrong person to find you alone, or under protected, and it’s over. ”
I tilt my head, my voice flat. “I’ve gathered that, which is why I’m still here. I don’t know why you’re telling me what Iris and Liz have already pointed out.”
Apparently, my “thanks for the memo” tone doesn’t land the way I intend.
“Because it’s my job to keep you safe,” he snarls and his jaw flexes. “They can talk all they want, but it’s not on them if you die. It’s me who will pay the consequences.”
A prickle runs down my spine at the sheer conviction he exudes, but I mask it with sarcasm. Especially since the attraction I’ve been feeling toward him seems to be very one-sided. At least based on how easily I piss him off.
“So, being my mate means you’re basically my supernatural bodyguard, yeah?”
That earns me a look. Bright golden eyes catch the late afternoon light, glinting like molten amber. “Call it whatever you need to in order to feel better.”
“I’d rather know the truth.” I meet his stare, willing him to read the sincerity behind my words, and instantly regret it when his gaze darkens, pulling me in like a riptide.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for that,” he says, leaning in just enough to steal the air between us. “At least not when it comes to me.”
Blinking feels impossible. Breathing feels optional.
For one dangerous second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if I didn’t resist this throbbing inside me, if I leaned forward instead of holding my ground.
Some part of me, the part that’s been quietly starving for someone to catch me when I fall ever since Mom died, is whispering, take me.
But my stubborn, human-trained logic finally wrestles control back. “Right. Well, what truths do you think I’m ready for then?” The words come out softer and breathier than I’d like. Less challenge, more confession.
“Rowan.” My name rolls off his tongue like a vow. His jaw works, as if he’s thoroughly considering each word before letting them loose. “Keeping you safe is only part of my role as your mate, but it’s the most important piece. No matter what I think or feel, your life comes before everything else.”
This is starting to give me swoony, romance-novel vibes, and I’m almost willing to sink into them. Almost. But then his next words drop like a punch between us.
“Even if that means pissing you off.” His pitch dips lower, dark and velvet-edged, moving through me until heat pools once more low in my traitorous stomach. “I need you alive, whether you hate me or not.”
Damn him. Damn my body for reacting like this, and for my mind screaming don’t trust him while the rest of me inches closer like I’m tethered to that voice.
“You say that like you intend to kidnap me if I don’t cooperate.” I avoid his stare, focusing instead on a knot in the wood of the bench, because if I look at him, I’m certain my blush will give me away.
But I feel his gaze anyway—heavy, molten, unblinking.
“If I need to, I will.” There’s a beat of silence before he continues, “We have a wolf council that includes leaders from each of the pack territories. They’re meeting tonight, and if they make the wrong call, it could change everything for you. ”
That drops like ice into my bloodstream. I search his face for more, but his features are carved from stone, unreadable.
“And you’re not going to tell me what this ‘wrong call’ is?”
He shakes his head, but the movement doesn’t seem to stop the words from coming. “There will likely be a bounty put out on you. Supernaturals will come from all over to claim it unless you turn yourself in. At least if the council is smart, that’s the offer they’ll make.”
My pulse stutters, but I force a shrug. “So, then I just need to shift,” I say, remembering Liz telling me I won’t be vulnerable once I do. “Easy enough.”
That last bit is a lie. Based on what that book said, I’ll be wishing for death during the first change, but that’s a problem for future me to sort out. Turning into a howling wolf is better than actually dying. I think… I hope.
“We’ll work on that tonight,” he says as if it were his idea. “You’ll want the moon on your side for this. Trust me.”
Those last two words slice through me like a butcher’s knife, leaving me open and raw. What am I going to be and can I really put my life in this man’s hands?
My mind flashes back to him leaping off the roof with such practiced ease. He seems to know what he’s doing, and Liz left me alone with him.
So, maybe I can.
“Tonight then,” I say, standing and brushing my palms over my jeans to chase off the restless energy vibrating in my hands.
He stands too, close enough that his shadow encompasses mine. “You might hate me before we’re done, but I’ll only do what’s necessary to keep you safe.”
The stubbornness in his expression makes me want to shove him and possibly kiss him after. Which is not a healthy emotional response.
I turn toward the fountain instead, watching ripples distort the reflection of the blue sky. “Once I shift, you won’t have to worry so much. I’m sure that’ll take some of the burden off you.”
“You don’t get it yet,” he murmurs, stepping closer until his breath brushes my temple, a whisper of heat against my skin. “But you will. No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”
Maybe this isn’t as one-sided as I previously thought…
The words send a shock through me, dangerous and warm. For one heartbeat, I imagine him closing the distance, his mouth at my ear, his hands anchoring me. And then I shove the thought into the mental vault marked absolutely not.
Still, as I walk away, the quiet stir of something inside me—the wolf I haven’t met yet—rises to the surface.
And somehow, I already know she won’t let me keep anything buried when it comes to Cade.
A thought that both thrills and terrifies me.
But first, I need to go find Liz and that book with the prophecy in it.